


Children of the Night

by BobSkeleton



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Howard has definitely read Twilight, LITERALLY, M/M, Shower Sex, Supernatural Elements, Vampire handjobs woohoo!, Vampires, Vince is the Shoreditch Vampire, biting kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-02 08:41:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19195480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BobSkeleton/pseuds/BobSkeleton
Summary: This is the fluffiest vampire fic ever written. Vince gets infected with a virus that mimics vampirism. Howard helps. In a weird way, this brings them together.





	Children of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is ridiculous. Full of cheesy vampire tropes, self-loathing, redemption through sexytimes...
> 
> If you enjoy any part of this, credit to [blackmountainbones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackmountainbones/pseuds/blackmountainbones)  
> who turned this from a goth girl's candyfloss fever dream into something marginally readable. 
> 
> Check out VampVince moodboard I made [here](https://66.media.tumblr.com/bb78737317f72bae74a74976bff09616/tumblr_pr9jgz8z7H1wxxhbu_540.jpg). 
> 
> Title quote is from a _Dracula_ , which I've read more times than I can count.

“Well, how long will the...disease? Virus? Last?” 

 

“I don’t know at this point, but I’ll let you know as soon as I find out. Bollo, come on. We’ve got to get to Xooberon. Fast.”

 

“Wait, Naboo! What do I...y’know...feed him?”

  
“Go down to the butcher’s and ask for the blood. They’ll give it to you. And stop wrinkling your nose like that, Howard, your other option is opening up your own veins.” 

 

Howard gulped. 

 

“Okay, Naboo.”

  
“Keep him inside, yeah? He calls himself the ‘Shoreditch Vampire’ but I’d prefer not to test that theory.” With that, Naboo and Bollo shuffled downstairs to the carpet, off to the Shaman Council to find out what to do. 

 

Howard pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering how he got himself into these situations. 

 

After Howard had been carried off unexpectedly by the Claw-Bellied Sugar Gliders from Zantu, Vince had, predictably, come to rescue him. What they didn’t anticipate was the virus that the sugar gliders carried, transmitted by bite, one of which Vince had, of course, sustained. They barely escaped before Naboo and Bollo came by space cab to take them home. 

 

The bite had been treated with basic first aid and a rank, green, topical potion from Naboo, but the virus was inside Vince already. Naboo knew the basics--it mimicked what humans called vampirism. They knew that Vince would sleep for most of the next twenty-four hours and awaken  _ hungry.  _

 

Howard suppressed a gag. He’d seen enough vampire films to know what to expect. The cold, clawing feeling of discomfort within him grew. He shook himself visibly, then marched to their room where Vince sat staring at the wall. He was a Man of Action, after all.

 

“All right, Vince?” Vince grinned up at him from where he was perched on his bed. 

 

“Yeah, Howard. M’sleepy, but it’ll be alright, won’t it?”

  
Howard doubted it very highly. After all, it wasn’t Vince who had to go to the butcher’s and ask for blood. 

 

“Sure it will. Naboo’s gone to get the cure. He’ll be back soon. Let’s get you cleaned up before you sleep, yeah?” He helped Vince to his feet. Vince swayed drunkenly, seemingly unable to focus his eyes. 

 

“So tired, Howard. Can’t it wait?” 

 

“Maybe you’re right, little man,” Howard admitted with defeat. He tucked Vince back into bed. “Are you cold?”

 

“A bit, yeah.” Howard grabbed the blanket  off his own bed and draped it over Vince. 

 

“Get some sleep, Vince.”

  
“‘oward?”

  
“Yes?”

  
“Staywivme?” Vince’s voice was so small, so pitiful, the words slurred so they seemed like one entity, and it chipped away at a piece of Howard’s heart. 

 

“I have to run an errand for Naboo,” he told Vince. 

 

“Please? Jus’ til I fall asleep?”

 

“Okay, little man.” Howard sat on the edge of the bed, extremely unsure of what to do with his hands. He sat fidgeting until he felt a shiver from Vince. 

 

“‘oward? M’cold..” Howard couldn’t help it, it was like a long-buried instinct had suddenly roared to life. He kicked off his shoes and got under the blankets, holding Vince close and willing his own body heat to funnel off into Vince. 

 

“S’better,” Vince murmured as the tremors subsided. After long moments, he fell still. Deathly still, deathly cold, and asleep. Howard pulled himself back, his mind racing. It was happening. He had to get to the butcher’s. 

 

“I’ll be back when you wake up, little man.” 

 

If he pressed a kiss to Vince’s cold temple on the way out, he chose not to overthink that detail. 

* * *

The following evening, Vince awoke, head cleared significantly.  _ Everything  _ had cleared significantly. Even though it was dark, he could see Howard’s outline clearly in the darkened room, like those creepy videos that had night vision mode turned on. He could  _ smell  _ Howard, sleep-warm and delicious, like pipe smoke and tea and wool. He could hear the noises outside the street below, could hear every little rattle and patter if he strained his ears. Thankfully, he could just as easily block them out. He sat up, noticing Howard asleep in his own bed, but dressed in his pyjamas. How long had he been asleep? 

 

And  _ fuck,  _ he was thirsty. His throat felt like sandpaper, burning with thirst. He stood, or attempted to. It happened too fast, like he’d grown taller or the atmosphere had changed while he’d slept. “Howard!” he called. 

 

Immediately, Howard sat up. 

 

“Vince? You’re awake?”

 

“Yeah, obviously, only everything’s gone off.” 

 

Howard got up, reached out for Vince’s arms, and pulled the cord to turn his bedside lamp on. 

 

“Aw, fuck, Howard, turn it off!” 

 

“Sorry! Sorry!” Howard turned the light off again, the impression of Vince burning his retina, his hands still grasping Vince’s arms. 

 

“Well now you’ve done it you might as well leave it on.” 

 

Howard’s eye roll was nearly audible. He turned the light back on, and got a good look at Vince. 

 

He looked...exactly the same, actually. A little paler, but otherwise...same nose, same cheekbones, same stupid hair, same ey--wait. 

 

His eyes were dark. 

 

They looked as though they were all pupil. It was...disconcerting. Howard hadn’t realized how much of the image he had of Vince in his mind was centered around those big blue eyes. Now that they were no longer blue, Howard felt a knot in his throat. He swallowed, willing himself not to get emotional now. Vince needed him. 

 

“Sorry about the light,” he said lamely. 

 

“S’alright, just wasn’t ready for it. Christy, but the colors seem brighter. I can almost see green and gold bits in your eyes, Howard.” Howard was still holding onto Vince’s arms. They were close, and Vince smelled...incredible. Like his normal fruity-sweet-aftershave smell, but with an undercurrent of something darkly floral and incense-y. Masculine. Delicious. Howard wanted to lean in, dark, strange eyes and all. He blinked, focusing. 

 

“Are you a bit unsteady?”

 

“Yeah, everything’s gone wonky. Colors are strange, sounds are louder, I feel like I’m ice skating for the first time.” 

  
“Well, come on. Let’s get you to the living room, yeah?” Still supporting each other, they made their way out of the bedroom. Vince sat on the couch. Howard knew what he  _ should  _ do but it didn’t make the task any less awful. 

 

“Howard? I’m really thirsty. Did Naboo say what I should do?”

 

“Well, we could try some tea?”

 

“Yeah, all right. Cheers, Howard.” 

 

The familiar routine of making tea soothed Howard’s nerves a bit, even though he knew tea wouldn’t quench Vince’s thirst. It was a vain hope, but one he had to indulge. 

 

“Here you go,” he said, handing Vince the mug. 

  
“Thanks,” Vince smiled up at him. It was the first time he’d seen Vince’s teeth since...since he woke up. The canines were noticeably sharper, but not freakishly long. They looked... _ sexy _ , was the only word that came to Howard’s mind. Dangerous and predatory, but still alluring. 

 

_ A bite with those would be better than any Chinese burn. _

 

Howard ignored the twinge in his groin at the sight. The sharp teeth combined with the dark eyes and that intoxicating smell...it was almost too much to handle. Howard blushed, and went back to putter about the kitchen. It wasn’t but a few seconds before he heard the gagging. 

 

“Shit!” Vince swore. 

 

“Too hot?” Howard asked, rushing over.

“No, I just...I can’t drink it,” Vince replied sadly. He set the cup down on the table, looking at it forlornly like it had betrayed him. The sight moved Howard to action. He went to the fridge and retrieved the brown paper bag. He opened the lid off the Styrofoam bowl, and the moment he had, Vince was over his shoulder.

 

“Oh my God, Vince!” 

  
“Sorry, Howard! I told you I was moving weird. That smells amazing, can I have it?”

 

“Not all in one go out of the bowl like an animal. Sit. I’ll bring you a glass.” 

  
“Don’t want it,” Vince answered, his voice low and gravelly. 

 

“Sit.”

 

Something crossed Vince’s face, a shadow, visible only for a second. Then he lifted his chin, grinned at Howard, and went and sat back on the sofa. 

 

Howard was determined to keep all of this as...  _ human _ as possible. He got a wine glass from the cabinet and carefully poured some of the bowl’s contents into it. He heard what sounded like a “Mmm” from the couch--he tried not to think about it and failed spectacularly. The little whining sound combined with the fright he’d just had when Vince had looked at him like  _ that _ ... he wasn’t sure if he was incredibly scared or incredibly turned on, and this upset him even more. 

 

Hands shaking, he brought Vince the glass. Vince looked up at him with his strange, dark eyes, took the glass without breaking eye contact, and sipped tentatively. Immediately, Howard knew Vince liked what he was tasting. He moaned, and closing his eyes, tipped the glass empty into his mouth. He let out an exhale, and handed the glass back to Howard. 

 

“More.” 

 

Howard debated a little. Was there such a thing as too much pig blood? Would Vince get sick from this? Naboo hadn’t specified. He tried to recall what little he knew about vampires and seemed to remember hearing that new vampires were very hungry. He went to the kitchen to refill the glass. 

 

Vince drained that glass, too. He moaned again, in absolute ecstasy. It tasted  _ so,  _ so good. And it felt even better. Like ice cold milk on a hot summer’s day, but it went deeper than that. It felt good inside, warmed him up a little, hit  _ almost _ every spot inside him that was begging to be filled up. He couldn’t help the little contented sounds that escaped him. He needed  _ more.  _

 

“Howard, please?” 

 

Howard was looking at him sadly, his little eyes making him seem even shiftier than usual. Vince almost felt guilty. He didn’t  _ want  _ this. He knew what he was drinking and it was well nasty, but he  _ needed  _ it. 

 

“Howard. Please.” 

 

Howard returned to the kitchen, this time bringing the Styrofoam bowl. It smelled  _ divine.  _ Vince grabbed it and drained it. The burning in his throat had subsided a bit. It wasn’t all gone, but it was tolerable, now. Still, he couldn’t help licking the bowl.

 

Seeing Vince’s blood-red tongue dart out between his sharpened teeth to lap up the remains of the blood was... Howard was developing a  _ situation  _ in his trousers. And he felt sure Vince knew. 

 

Vince cleaned the bowl, and handed it back, grinning cheekily. 

 

“Cheers, Howard, that was genius.” 

 

Howard forced a smile, then went back to the kitchen to chuck the bowl and the brown bag in the bin. He’d need to go back to the butcher in the morning. 

 

Vince stretched himself on the sofa languorously, adopting the attitude of someone in repose after a large meal. It wasn’t until Howard sat in the chair across from him that he noticed--Vince’s eyes had gone red. They had the same depth as when they had been blue, all the little striations that Howard had mapped over the years still there, only tinged in red. 

 

“So...how long will Naboo be?” Vince asked. 

 

“I’m not entirely sure. He said he’d speak with the council and contact us as soon as he knew anything. I’ll go back to the butcher’s in the morning.” 

 

Vince’s scarlet eyes brightened at the mention of more... sustenance. 

 

“Good, can I go with you? I can wear my red and black cape, it’d be well fashionable for me now!” 

 

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Naboo seemed to think you should stay in.”    
  


“But we don’t even know how long he’ll be gone! You can’t keep me locked up here forever, I’ll go barmy.” 

 

“You’re already barmy,” Howard replied on autopilot. 

  
Vince laughed, exposing his sharpened teeth. Howard shifted uncomfortably. Vince was heartbreakingly beautiful, and utterly dangerous, like a jaguar or a wolf. He tried not to think of Vince in his cape, pushing Howard against a wall, and moving his mouth against Howard’s throat…

 

_ Why  _ was he reacting this way? Was it the imminent danger? 

 

No, Howard decided. It was the fact that he knew he had something Vince wanted--no,  _ needed _ \--to survive. He finally had something to offer Vince. The images raced through his mind again: tongue, and lips, and those beautiful sharp teeth…

 

Vince yawned. 

 

“You’ve just slept for ages,” Howard remarked, willing his voice not to crack.

 

“Yeah, well, it’s exhausting becoming a vam--having this, y’know,  _ disease _ , and having to drink that nasty stuff.” 

 

“You didn’t think it was nasty when you were panting over it like a dog on a hot day.”

 

“Well, it tasted nice but I still know what it is. Well nasty.” 

 

“Are you feeling a bit more settled?”

 

“A little. Just tired. Sated, I guess. Colors are so bright though, Howard, I wish you could see. Might have to do some painting. Oh, and I can hear everything. Like, if I try, I can hear them bats flying around outside.” They both quieted listening for said bats. 

 

“I can’t hear anything,” said Howard, stifling a yawn. 

 

“Well, I can. They’re out there. And moths and things. You tired?”

 

“It’s nearly four in the morning, Vince, yes I’m tired.” 

 

“Well, go take a sleepy. I won’t go nowhere, promise.” 

 

“Promise?”

 

“I said!” 

 

Howard rose to make his way back to his bed.

 

“Howard?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I won’t bite you, I promise.” 

 

Howard’s first instinct was to laugh, then beg Vince to bite him, but the quiet volume and sadness in Vince’s voice let Howard know he was serious. 

 

“I know, little man. See you in the morning.” 

 

“G’night, Howard,” Vince called from the sofa. And with that Howard shuffled off to bed. He tried desperately not to over-analyze things or get himself going again, tried to relax and think of unsexy things, like Bob Fossil, and pig’s blood. In minutes, he was asleep, the fatigue of the last twenty-four hours catching up with him. 

 

Vince sat on the sofa, listening to the night sounds, and thinking to himself. He’d heard Howard’s blood, heard it rushing around inside him and down to... well. Howard was getting off on this.  _ Why?  _ This merited further thought. Luckily, Vince didn’t have much to do but wait for morning. 

 

Furthermore, he could  _ smell  _ Howard. He’d always thought Howard smelled good, in the way one might appreciate a perfume or a scented candle. But now? Howard smelled positively  _ delicious,  _ in the way fresh baked goods do. Mouthwatering. He could smell him even from out here in the main room. Vince’s mouth watered. He imagined tasting Howard, imagined drinking some of that deliciousness, getting it  _ inside  _ him. 

 

He stopped, disgusted. 

 

This was  _ HOWARD.  _ He could not, under any circumstances, harm Howard. He made a pact with himself. He’d starve himself off or eat rats like that one stroppy bloke in that vampire film had done before he hurt Howard. 

 

All that taken care of, Vince turned on the TV, awaiting morning.

* * *

“Howard!” 

 

Howard was in a jungle, and he was looking for Vince. Had to find Vince. Where was he? Something was wrong. Vince was hurt or sick, and Howard couldn’t find him. 

 

“Howard!” 

 

He moved his legs as fast as he could, but got nowhere. It was like he was stuck. He tried calling out to Vince, but no sound came forth. He  _ had  _ to get to him! 

 

“HOWARD!” 

 

Howard awoke with a start. 

 

“Vince?”

 

“Howard, help, I’m in the kitchen. Please, hurry!” 

 

Howard sprang out of bed and ran to the sitting room where he’d left Vince. 

 

It was morning, glorious morning. Sunlight filled the flat, the shutters never having been drawn last night. Howard’s eyes adjusted to the light and he turned to the kitchen, and saw Vince curled up in the corner on the floor in the only remaining small patch of shadow. 

 

“Howard, please! The sun!” His voice was frantic.

 

Howard could have kicked himself.  _ Of course, sunlight.  _ He was so daft, how could he have forgotten that part? Quickly, he drew the shades, blocking out the offending light. 

 

“Vince? Is that better?”

 

“Dunno,” the smaller man sniffled. Howard was at his side in an instant. 

 

“Hey there, little man, it’s okay.” 

 

“No, s’not,” Vince mumbled, sniffling. “I can’t even cry properly, look!” He turned his woeful eyes to Howard, and not a single tear could be seen. One single pink track lined his cheek. “I cry blood, Howard, it’s so disgusting.  _ I’m  _ disgusting. And I can’t go outside even if I wanted to. Got burned.” He held out his hand, which was, for lack of a better word, charred. 

 

“Oh God, Vince!” 

 

“I know, I tried to shut the shades, but I couldn’t do it. And it just kept coming, filling the room more and more ‘til there was no place left. I was so scared, Howard.” 

 

Howard knelt and scooped him up, holding Vince’s delicate body close to his own. 

 

“I’m sorry, Vince, I’m so sorry.” He kept repeating it, a litany of guilt over and over. 

 

“S’not your fault, Howard.”

 

“This would never have happened if not for me.” 

 

“Nonsense. Someone had to come save you. It’s what we do, that’s how this works.” 

 

“And how am I going to save you?” 

 

Vince looked up, sad red eyes meeting his own. He traced a finger along Howard’s cheek. 

 

“You’ll figure it out. You just did.” 

 

Howard sat, arms cradling Vince, and willing his heart to stop pounding so damn hard. Vince was so close, those red eyes boring into his. He could smell the beautiful, mouth-watering fragrance of  _ Vince  _ and tried not to think how perfectly they fit together, Vince touching his face…

 

They gave each other crooked smiles then broke apart, Howard helping Vince to his feet.

 

“Come on. Let’s get something on that burn, and then you can rest. I’ll go out and get more for you to, er, eat.” 

 

“Good, Howard. I’m getting thirsty again.” 

 

Howard chose not to think too much about that.

 

He found a balm in Naboo’s stash and slathered some of it on Vince’s burnt hand and wrist. He wasn’t sure it would do much, but at least it’d help with the pain. After making sure their room was still dark, Howard led Vince in and helped him get into bed. 

 

“Try and sleep for a while, yeah? I’ll check all the windows, make sure they’re shut. I’ll be back soon, okay?”

 

“Okay, Howard.” 

 

Howard left, and Vince slipped into a dreamless sleep. 

 

* * *

Howard returned with three Styrofoam bowls of leftover blood. Vince didn’t awaken until the sun went down, and Howard just figured this was part of “the whole thing,” as he’d begun to call it in his mind.

 

Vince's hand had appeared to heal itself during sleep, appearing as perfectly white and marble-like as before. As soon as he awoke, Vince was thirsty. He devoured the first bowl with the same gusto and relish with which he’d enjoyed it yesterday. The experience left Howard turned on and uncomfortable, again. Vince hummed contentedly as he dipped into the second bowl, and as much as Howard wanted to hear that sound again (on a loop, forever), he stopped Vince. 

 

“That’s enough, Vince, don’t want to overdo it. If you’re still, er, thirsty in a while you can have more.” Vince pouted like a child who’d been told he couldn’t have ice cream before supper. Then he laughed. 

 

“Fine, mum.”

 

He slowly, carefully, made his way to the sofa, weaving a bit as he walked, before plunking himself down. 

 

“Oof, I’m all dizzy,” he said. “Blood drunk. Is that possible, Howard?”

 

“I don’t know, little man,” he replied, following Vince to the living room. “I wish I knew more. Wish we’d heard from Naboo.” 

 

Vince giggled. “Naboo’s such a tosser. What if he never finds a cure? What if ‘m like this forever? Wouldja still love me, Howard?”

 

Howard started. He did not want to discuss his feelings right now, or ever, really. But he figured the easiest way to get out of this was to tell tipsy-vamp-Vince what he needed to hear. 

 

“Of course. We’d make it work. We’d probably get lots of gigs at goth clubs.” He chuckled, Vince giggled. 

 

“Mmm, that’d be fun.” He wiped the back of his hand over his red lips, and Howard felt himself stiffen further.

 

“Howard? I need a shower.” 

 

“I know. Sit for a while, though. Um, digest. It’s like when you go swimming. No water directly after you eat.” Vince laughed again, pointed canines on display. 

 

God, Howard wanted him. Wanted Vince to bite him, to drink  _ him,  _ to be the cause of his pleasured sighs and intoxication. Surreptitiously, he moved a pillow over his lap.

 

He had no idea how badly Vince wanted him, too. 

 

Vince’s thirst was satisfied on a technical scale, but as everyone knows, animal blood paled in comparison to human blood. He wanted to be  _ sated,  _ in a way he knew only Howard could do for him. He’d wanted Howard, in every way, for ages, since before the zoo times, and had always pushed the thought down. Stifled it. And now, it was rearing its ugly head in the most fiery way. Still, he’d made a pact with himself not to hurt Howard. And Vince was many things, but he didn’t lie to himself. 

 

They sat, together but alone with their thoughts. Eventually, Vince started flipping through a magazine and Howard grabbed a book. It was almost like a normal night in. 

 

A couple hours later, sobered up now, Vince stood. 

 

“Gonna go get cleaned up, Howard,” he said. His voice was low, gravelly almost, from the hours of disuse. It shot straight to Howard’s groin. He just nodded and watched Vince slope off to the bathroom. He tried so hard not to think of Vince languidly reclining on the sofa, of Vince’s sharp teeth, of Vince naked in the shower. 

 

It didn’t work. 

 

Once he was sure he heard the water running, Howard palmed himself through his trousers.  _ God  _ but the friction felt good. Every thought he’d had over the last couple of days crashed into him, the friction feeling  _ so good _ after being pent up like that. He thought of Vince’s intoxicating smell, his dangerous, beautiful teeth; Vince, tipsy and sated and affectionate; imagined how it would hurt  _ so good  _ to be bitten by Vince. 

 

He breathed through his nose, trying to keep quiet and feeling like a teenager again, having a sneaky wank while his parents were home. 

 

Vince let the hot water sluice over him. At least  _ this  _ stayed the same. The shower still felt great, it felt so good to be  _ clean.  _ He didn’t realize how gross, how unclean, he’d felt until he’d gotten in and shampooed his hair. He’d just finished conditioning when he heard it--a soft, stifled gasp. He listened harder. 

 

His ears heard everything. He heard Howard’s breathing, the shuffle of fabric, soft gasps, and heard a whisper:  _ Vince.  _

 

_ That’s it. That’s enough. _

 

“Howard?”

 

Howard yanked his hands away from himself as though he’d been caught. He sat still as death for a moment, wondering if he could pretend he hadn’t heard Vince. 

 

“Howard, come here.” 

 

Howard, achingly hard and unable to think clearly, obeyed Vince’s command mindlessly. He went into the bathroom. It was warm, steam-filled, and smelled of Vince’s shampoo. He studiously observed the tile floor. 

 

“Yeah, Vince?”

 

“Howard. Look at me.” There it was, that voice. Low, sensual. Combined with that dizzying  _ smell  _ of Vince. He couldn’t help it. His eyes shot up. Vince’s teeth worried his lower lip seductively. “Howard. Get in here, you numpty.” 

 

He didn’t have to be told twice. It was as though he was mesmerized, under a spell, and compelled to obey. He shucked his clothes, no embarrassment at being naked in front of Vince. They’d seen each other undressed before. Howard consciously knew this was different, but couldn’t be arsed to care. He stepped into the cascade of hot water. 

 

Vince’s hands were in his hair and on his shoulders and caressing his neck, and then, after days of static electricity desire, they were kissing. Hot, wet, needy kisses beneath the water, Howard’s teeth clacking against Vince’s sharpened ones. Vince groaned obscenely, and Howard let out a low growl. He pressed himself closer to Vince, his erection finally getting purchase against the smaller man’s skin. Vince gasped, and with a strength and speed that shocked him, pressed Howard against the wall of the shower. 

 

“Sorry,” he muttered, as he ground himself against Howard. Howard gasped. This was  _ exactly  _ what he’d pictured. 

 

Vince could hear Howard’s heart racing, hear the blood in his veins rushing, could feel Howard’s need against him, could  _ smell,  _ God, the smell of him... he needed to taste. Vince was an animal, feral as the creatures who’d raised him. He mapped kisses down Howard’s neck, suckling his way down from ear to collarbone. He was there. So close. He nosed the artery beneath the skin, could feel it warm and pulsing. Could smell it. Was so close…

 

Howard panted, head thrown back against the shower wall. He’d never been so aroused in his life, seeing Vince wet and white and perfect, and so close to  _ finally _ biting him...

 

Vince wrapped his hand around Howard’s length, and at the same time, closed his teeth on the sensitive skin of Howard’s throat.

 

Howard’s cock twitched in Vince’s hand. The noise Howard made was not one Vince would ever,  _ ever  _ forget. The pain mingled seamlessly with the pleasure, and Howard ceased to exist. He was a being made entirely of sensations, and all of them were centered on Vince, who was latched onto his throat. 

 

Vince’s teeth, perfect cutting machines, sank into Howard’s neck like warm butter. And then, his mouth was being filled, overwhelmed by the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted. It was like buttercream and Madeira and every good thing, and better than all of those. His own length grew hard at the sensations, it was  _ that  _ good. He swallowed, feeling, at last, satisfied. The burning inside him was truly slaked, the empty, itchy, uncomfortable places filled with Howard’s blood. 

 

_ Howard.  _

 

Vince swallowed again, hard. He took another mouthful, then recoiled. He made to leave, to put as much distance between himself and Howard as he could, but Howard grabbed him, strong arms holding him tight. 

 

“No.”

 

Vince wiped at his stained lips and let the water wash the rest of the blood away, and the sight of scarlet against the white shower tiles aroused Howard even more.

 

“I swore, Howard, I swore I wouldn’t hurt you and I have.” 

 

“And I liked it. Damn it, I’ve never liked anything more.” And it was true. Howard was pleasantly lightheaded--Vince hadn’t taken more than a couple of mouthfuls of blood. He was still painfully hard, still aching for release, still so madly in love with Vince that none of this mattered even a little. 

 

“Don’t make me quote ‘Twilight’ to you, Vince. I’m fine with this, I wanted it too. Now, are you going to finish what you started?” 

 

Vince smiled ruefully, crimson eyes dancing. “What if I didn’t? What if I just left, right now?” Howard eyed their cocks, both hard and needing release. 

 

“Cocktease,” he said, quieting Vince with a kiss. It was slower, more languid, but every bit as loving and passionate. Tasting his blood on Vince’s tongue made him lightheaded again.  _ Fuck  _ this was so good. Howard Moon had a biting kink, as it turned out. 

 

Vince reached his hand between them, grabbing his own length and Howard’s, and massaged them together. 

 

“Fuck,” whispered Howard. 

 

“M’trying,” replied Vince cheekily. Vince licked at the wound on Howard’s neck, watching intently as the puncture wounds seemed to seal themselves. Neat! 

 

Contented at last that he hadn’t harmed Howard, Vince let go a bit, allowing himself, at last, to just feel and enjoy. He’d wanted this for years, and  _ finally  _ they were here. If he could go back in time and tell himself what was awaiting him in the future... warmth pooled in his stomach at the thought of it, thinking of how much he loved Howard. 

 

He continued stroking, Howard’s hands fluttering up and down Vince’s chest, into his hair, peppering Vince’s marble skin with kisses as he went.

 

“Fuck, Vince, I’m--”

 

“Let go, Howard,” he said, kissing the corner of his mouth. And he did, spectacularly. Vince followed, his release firing through him so quickly and intensely it caught him by surprise. They stood for a while, limbs shaking, heads resting together, and catching their breath. 

 

They both had a proper wash, because they were gentlemen, and then curled up together in bed as dawn approached. 

* * *

 

“Vince! Howard! Get out here, you nitwits.” 

 

The sun was just dipping below the horizon. Howard and Vince awoke together, momentarily confused.

 

“Naboo?”

 

“Naboo!”

 

They scrambled to get up. Howard haphazardly threw on some trousers and whatever shirt was closest while Vince wrapped himself in the floral kimono hung on the back of the door. They raced out, eager to see what, if anything, Naboo had discovered. 

 

“Naboo! Naboolio! Oh, so glad you’re home. What’d you find out?”

 

“Nothing worth mentioning,” the tiny shaman replied indifferently. “Here, drink this.” He proffered a small bottle full of a lilac liquid. 

 

“That’s it?”

 

“Yeah. It’s just a virus, innit? There’s the cure. Bottoms up, Vince. Come on, Bollo, we need to get stoned. Don’t bother us unless it’s an emergency, yeah?” And with that, he disappeared as quickly as he’d arrived, with  _ none  _ of the pomp and circumstance Howard felt the occasion merited. 

 

“Well, you heard him, little man. Drink up.” 

  
Vince stood, eyes downcast, rolling the bottle in his hands. 

 

“What is it, Vince?”

 

Vince looked up at him, sadness in his ruby eyes. 

 

“Well, it’s just...I mean. It took  _ this  _ for  _ that  _ to happen. If I go back...will...would you still..?”

 

Howard closed the distance between them and enveloped Vince in his arms. He pressed a kiss to the top of his head, then pulled back and placed one on his lips. 

 

“Vince. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted... _ that.  _ And yes, it took this to make me realize it, but now that we’ve crossed that threshold, I’ve no intention of backing out, sir. You know me. Once I cross the physical boundary, it’s forever.”

 

Vince grinned up at him stupidly. 

 

“Cheers, Howard. Same, you know. Wish we’d done this ages ago.” 

 

“Drink up, Vince,” Howard repeated. 

 

“Yeah, I’m getting thirsty again. Although…” Vince gave Howard a purely sinful look from beneath his lowered lashes. “Maybe I could have one more taste? Y’know, for the road?”

 

Howard, eager, took him up on the offer.

* * *

Later, sometime after midnight, Vince finally drank the potion. His eyes were slowly draining of color altogether, and Howard couldn’t wait for the beautiful sky blue to return. They were lying in bed, entangled in each other’s limbs and dozing on and off. Vince was feeling a bit dizzy as his senses returned to normal, and Howard knew he needed rest to fight off what remained of the virus.

 

“All right?” he asked Vince. 

  
Vince looked up and gave him the prettiest smile. “All right.” 

 

And for the first time in both their lives, it was. 

  
  



End file.
